Jonas nodded. "We've been collaborating ever since." He blew out a smoke ring. "We're so glad we found you girls. We really wanted our kind to be the face of the campaign."
"Our kind?" Schuyler asked.
Anka laughed, and flashed her fangs at them.
"You're Blue Bloods!" Bliss gasped.
"Of course." Jonas nodded, amused. "Most people in fashion are. Haven't you noticed?"
"How can you tell?"
"You just know - in the shape of the eyes and a certain overall bone structure," Jonas explained. "Plus, we're also really, really picky. Just look at Brannon Frost, the editor-in-chief of Chic. Hello."
"She's a vampire?" Bliss goggled. But then, it made so much sense - the frail figure, the dark oversized sunglasses, the pale skin, the rigorous dedication to perfection.
"Who else?" Schuyler asked.
Jonas rattled off several more names: a popular ?bad-boy? designer who had recently revitalized the goth-grunge look, a model who was the current face of a lingerie company, an acclaimed makeup artist who popularized blue nail polish. "There are tons," he said, tossing his cigarette off the balcony.
They changed the subject when several people from the crew came out to join them, and Jonas started to tell a series of raunchy jokes that only Perfection could match in grossness. Schuyler laughed with all the rest, feeling like she and Bliss were part of an ad hoc, slightly deranged family.
"Why isn't Mimi here?" Schuyler asked suddenly. It didn't make sense that she would have this experience while Mimi, who thrived on this kind of attention, had been left out.
Bliss suddenly laughed. She'd completely forgotten about Mimi. Mimi would die when she heard that Bliss and Schuyler had been chosen for the Stitched for Civilization campaign and not her!
"Yeah, where is Mimi?" Bliss asked.
Jonas scratched his head. Schuyler noticed the faded blue marks on his arms. "Mimi Force? We considered her for like, a second. Remember, Ank? What happened with her?"
"Linda told me her day rate," Anka said. "Apparently when she signed up, she told Linda she wouldn't get out of bed for less than ten thousand dollars a day. Sorry, girls, but without any experience, that's just not realistic. I didn't even make an offer. Besides, we wanted you two."
"I guess sleep is just too important to her." Bliss smirked. "She doesn't know what she's missing." Bliss gave Schuyler one of her rare, genuine smiles.
"Right." Schuyler nodded.
Schuyler smiled back. She was starting to like Bliss Llewellyn even more.
They went back to the shoot, draping themselves over each other, and when Jonas shouted, "Fire! Fire! Give me fire!" they practically burned the lens.
;
CHAPTER 23
It was maddening how your best friend could twist the knobs inside of you so much that it hurt. Oliver had known just where to stab his little barbs. Pod Person indeed! What about him, with his Vespa and his one-hundred-dollar haircuts? And his yearly birthday parties on board his family's two-hundred-foot yacht? Wasn't that just another stab at the popularity that eluded him?
Ever since The Committee meeting and the tea with Cordelia, Schuyler felt uprooted, unmoored, on unsteady ground. There was so much her grandmother had confirmed about their past - and so much she had still left out. Why was her mother in a coma? What had happened to her father? Schuyler felt more lost than ever, especially since Oliver had stopped speaking to her. They had never argued about anything before - they used to joke that they were just two halves of the same person. They liked all of the same things (5 ��Cent, sci-fi movies, pastrami sandwiches slathered with mustard) and disliked all of the same things (Eminem, pretentious Academy Award fodder, self-righteous vegetarians). But now that Schuyler had moved Jack from the ?Not? to the ?Hot? column, without campaigning for Oliver's approval, he had cut her off.
The rest of the week passed by without incident, Cordelia left for her annual fall sojourn on The Vineyard, Oliver continued to refuse to even acknowledge her existence, and she hadn't had a chance to talk to Jack again. But for once, she was too busy with real-world concerns - passing biology, getting her homework done, turning in her English essays - to deal with either of them.
Her jaw hurt whenever she extended and retracted her fangs, and she was relieved to find she didn't feel that deep-set hunger yet. She learned from her grandmother that the Caerimonia Osculor, the Sacred Kiss, was a very special ceremony, and most Blue Bloods waited until the age of consent (eighteen) to perform it; although incidents of pre-term sucking were rising with every generation - some vampires were even as young as fourteen or fifteen when they took their first human familiar. Taking a Red Blood without his or her consent was also against The Code.
On a whim, she decided to visit her mother at the hospital that Friday afternoon after school, since Oliver hadn't invited her to come over and hang out at his place as usual. Besides, she had a plan, and she didn't want to wait until Sunday to try it out. Instead of reading from the newspaper like she did every week, she was going to ask her mother some questions instead. Even if her mother couldn't answer her, Schuyler would feel better just getting them off her chest.
The hospital was quieter on a weekday afternoon. There weren't as many visitors in the lobby, and there was a desolate, abandoned feeling to the building. Life was lived elsewhere; even the nurses looked anxious to take off for the weekend.
Schuyler looked through the glass again before stepping inside her mother's room. Just as before, there, by the foot of the bed, was the same gray-haired man. He was saying something to her mother. Schuyler pressed her ear against the door.
"Forgive me ... forgive me ... wake up, please, let me help you..."